


Break The Fall

by allineedisaquill



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Gift Giving, Heart-to-Heart, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Manhattan Night Club, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24100759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allineedisaquill/pseuds/allineedisaquill
Summary: After the accident, Guillermo goes home to recouperate. Meanwhile, shaken from the wake-up call of his familiar's mortality, Nandor is forced to confront his feelings and find a way to apologise.(Set directly during and after 1x04 - Manhattan Night Club.)
Relationships: Guillermo/Nandor the Relentless (What We Do in the Shadows TV)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 270





	Break The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> My first work for this show and its characters so be kind. Thank you and enjoy.

The seconds it took for Guillermo to slip from Nandor’s grasp and plummet towards the ground were a blur. It happened so fast that he could barely grit out a string of panicked expletives before he sent himself soaring downwards after his familiar. The wind cut around him sharply and sent his hair fanning through the air, and the worst-case scenario flashed through his mind. He had no choice but to force it out with a grimace.

Guillermo could not die on him. He refused to entertain such an absurd idea.

By some stroke of luck his fall had been broken, but with it were Guillermo’s arm and leg. He lay in a crumpled heap on the top of the abandoned food truck, motionless but moaning in what Nandor could only assume was agony. His hair had twigs and debris tangled in its curls and Nandor frowned, resisting the urge to reach and pluck them out.

He wished Colin Robinson were there. He could look up on his modern device what they should do and request assistance. But as it stood, Nandor was alone and left to face the situation with no guidance, and he hadn’t a clue what way to go about it. Were there rules about moving someone in such trauma? Would he make Guillermo’s injuries worse? He couldn’t even assess the true damage if he tried. It could be much more superficial than it looked, but Nandor had no way of knowing. What he did know was that Guillermo couldn’t even turn his head to face him, his eyes straining to meet his instead.

Nandor dropped to his knees beside his familiar to make it easier; his clothes would need a deep clean when the ordeal was over. He made a mental note to remind Guillermo of it later. “Guillermo,” he said slowly, hovering above him. “Can you hear me?” 

Guillermo couldn’t nod, but he did manage to croak out, “You _dropped_ me.” The emotional pain fought with the physical, the latter winning in the end.

A guilty look, all teeth, was shot at the cameras. “Yes,” Nandor said. “Sorry about that.”

“Need…” Guillermo attempted. He wet his lips, then said, “Need the hospital. Think some stuff’s broken.”

At the direction, Nandor’s face brightened, renewed with determination. It faltered when he took another long, hard look at the state Guillermo was in, though. He remained where he was, unsure. “Hospital, yes,” he echoed. “I will have to carry you. Can you handle that?” In reality, Nandor could have sought out a human pedestrian to help, but Nandor’s brain didn’t do rational at the best of times and it certainly didn’t in that moment. Besides, he was sure he could get Guillermo to a hospital far quicker, and he’d much rather avoid anyone else.

Guillermo’s expression became tinged with frustration. “ _Fuck_ ,” he ground out in a surge of intense pain. “Do...whatever you need to. It’s _fine_.” He drew in a few long, deep breaths until whatever wave passed. “Please,” he added, much more quietly.

“Okay. This may hurt a little,” Nandor warned.

“Can’t get...much _worse_.”

Nandor slowly slid an arm beneath Guillermo’s thighs, making sure to support his head and neck with the other. Then, as if he weighed literally nothing, he hoisted him carefully up until he was cradled against his chest. He winced at the sharp cry of pain the action produced, but Guillermo seemed to settle quickly enough until his discomfort only left him in low hums.

“Lean your weight against me,” Nandor ordered, though there was no real fire behind the words. He mostly wanted to be sure Guillermo was steady and secure before they departed, even if he grimaced at the dirt that had no doubt been smeared onto his tunic, too.

Guillermo let out a rather delirious little laugh, which Nandor didn’t think could possibly be a good sign. It vibrated rather nicely against Nandor’s chest, which he instantly felt guilty for enjoying. “Don’t drop me again,” Guillermo said, and Nandor felt the way the man weakly grasped at his cape, as if to hold on for his life.

“I’ve got you,” he reassured curtly. “Now. To the hospital.”

  
  
  


Nandor felt marginally better once Guillermo was in the safe hands of the doctors and nurses, even if the bright lights and stark white walls offended his eyes. Not to mention the tone the doctors had taken with him upon arrival. He’d never known such ungratefulness.

“You really shouldn’t have carried him here,” one chastised, his eyebrows raised to his hairline. “We’ll see what the damage is, but next time please call for paramedics.”

Needless to say, Nandor had fought back a raging hiss. He’d done what he had to, and there would certainly _not_ be a next time. He snarled to himself and slumped to a nearby seat.

He felt useless and frankly ridiculous once he was alone, his cloak flowing dramatically over the clean waiting room chairs. After only a few minutes, he grew impatient and antsy, fingers jittery in his lap. So, rather than stew by himself and risk pondering the harsh reality of his familiar’s fragile mortality, Nandor fled back to the house as quickly as he could.

“What do you mean, you fucking dropped him?” Laszlo asked incredulously.

“Never mind that. What the hell were you doing up there in the first place, Nandor?” Nadja piled on.

Despite his towering presence, Nandor seemed to shrink under the scrutiny. He had only wanted to inform the others of the night’s incident. He had even hoped for a modicum of support from his fellow vampires. “We were...flying,” he admitted, cautious and slow. “But that doesn’t matter!” He said petulantly. “What _matters_ is that _my_ familiar is all broken and mangled right now, so we have to go back to the hospital. Immediately.”

Laszlo shook his head. “Fuck that. I don’t want to see that. I’m not a part of this.”

“Why should we?” Nadja asked. “He’s your stupid bloody familiar and you bloody dropped him.”

“Guillermo is _not_ stupid!” He snapped. Nandor’s patience was running thin, but he knew a rising temper wouldn’t help his cause. If he could reason with just one of them, he knew Laszlo would be his best bet. He turned to him, playing at his weak spot. “He needs us right now. Laszlo, please. I think they took Simon in there also. They might still have your hat.”

Not missing a beat, Laszlo said, “I’m getting my damn hat back. Let’s go.”

Nadja let out a groan but didn’t put up a further fight.

  
  
  


Nandor felt surprisingly exposed once the others joined him at Guillermo’s bedside. He’d expected the company to comfort him, but instead he found he didn’t know quite what to do with himself. Deep inside, he wanted to make the situation right, but his guilt became entangled with the dread of having his affection seen by too many eyes. He was never all that good at expressing his feelings, much less when he had an audience.

Guillermo groaned from his bed. 

The sound cut Nandor to his core. “Shh, Guillermo,” he said, a hand held out, “don’t trouble yourself.” When Guillermo met his gaze with bleary eyes, his insides twisted some more. He looked away, back to the others he was all too aware of. “He was fortunate. A thicket of trees tangled him up and then he landed on an abandoned food truck.”

Recounting the tale did nothing to ease him. He spun on the spot and leaned in close to his resting familiar, hands crossed in front of him self-consciously. “I want you to know that you...are my... _friend_ ,” he said.

Guillermo released an instant whine, prolonged and pained. Nandor didn’t know if it was a noise of recognition, couldn’t tell whether the man in the bed could truly understand him from the way his heavy eyelids flickered and struggled to stay open. 

“Eugh, no, that didn’t feel right.” The embarrassment became a second cloak that enveloped him and his knee-jerk response to push it all down reared its head, just as it always did. He could feel the judgement burning into the back of his head. “You’ll forget I said anything.” He ran his fingers lightly in the air above Guillermo’s head. He hoped it would do the trick, that he wasn’t so distracted by the urge to touch the younger man’s face that his powers failed to work.

Only time would tell. 

“Shall we?”

The sooner he escaped the hospital room - and with it, the evidence of his foolishness - the better. He slipped by Nadja and Laszlo without another word and into the safe cover of night. Later he would curse himself for letting his sentimentality for his mortal familiar slip through the cracks.

  
  


When Guillermo made the choice to recover away from the house, Nandor fell into full brood mode. He would have called it anything _but_ brooding, but his long-suffering vampire housemates knew the difference - and they didn’t have a single problem sharing it with the camera crew. 

“He’s been at it for days,” Laszlo said, his thumb hooked behind him. “And it’s all Gizmo’s fault. If the prat hadn’t fallen from the sky, he wouldn’t keep parading around the place with a face the length of my love-making organ.” He paused, then whipped his hand around to point a finger directly at the camera. “And I do _not_ make that comparison lightly,” he told them seriously. “It’s fucking long.”

Nadja pulled a face. “Yes, it’s pathetic. We all know what is wrong.”

The door flew open, the old wood groaning without so much as being touched. It revealed Nandor in the doorway, head tilted down as he surveyed the room with a dark gaze, equal parts suspicious and upset. Thoroughly unimpressed joined the mix when the camera panned close to his face and he waved one hand weakly for them to shoo.

“What have I told you? I heard you. Gossiping, and slandering, and so on,” he said indignantly, a slight bite of hurt to the words but no real commitment to do anything about it. “Do not gossip and slander, that’s what I said. And you are directly disobeying me.”

“Oh, get a life, Nandor!” Nadja scoffed and slouched in her chair, her arms folded petulantly.

Nandor huffed. “Why would you say that? I am a vampire. I _take_ life. Now you are just being unreasonable. Laszlo. Talk to your wife, please.”

That caused Laszlo to rise. “Don’t bring my good lady wife into this. She’s right, by all accounts. Have you seen yourself? You, my friend, need to get a grip.”

“And you need to learn some respect,” Nandor countered, not caring for Laszlo’s tone. He didn’t need Laszlo’s rudeness on top of the way the hospital had treated him. He bristled.

Laszlo scoffed and raised a brow. “We’re not your familiars, we don’t have to do a damned thing.” He leaned in, just daring Nandor to challenge him. While on most days he wouldn’t even want the camera crew to show Nandor the less-than-respectful things that came out of his mouth, he’d had his limit of the other vampire’s incessant depressing aura. No doubt Colin Robinson was having a feast from whatever corner he’d managed to hide himself away in and eavesdrop, but he and Nadja had had it up to their necks. Enough was enough.

Feeling defensive, Nandor hissed and drew up his hands, his fingers hooked sharply in the air. He settled down almost as quickly as his hackles had raised, however, and looked defiantly between Laszlo, Nadja, and the crew. “I am Nandor the Relentless!” He reminded them, but his voice was more of a childish shout than an imposing boom. “I do not _relent_.” All that was missing was the stomp of one foot to emphasise his point.

Nadja mouthed, “Three, two, one…” to the camera, counting along on her fingers. Right on cue, Nandor swept out with all the melodrama he could muster, hair flowing behind him. “Off to lick his wounds,” she explained with a roll of her eyes.

“I heard that!” Nandor called from the hallway as he retreated.

Laszlo dropped back to his chair and shook his head. “Fucking hopeless.”

“Honestly. One human male and he is weak in the heart like some weak-hearted little puppy dog creature,” Nadja said. Straight down the lens, she looked woefully disappointed, red lips pulled down. “Now you see our problem: Nandor the Relentless has bloody relented.”

“For his familiar,” Laszlo added in a drawl, quietly scandalised and bordering on impressed, one thick brow arched. His frustration changed to amusement. “Didn’t see _that_ one coming.”

Nadja made a disgusted noise and motioned as if to be sick.

  
  


Nandor felt lost. Though he was loath to admit it, he didn’t know how to pull himself from the slump without his faithful familiar to offer him some comforting words. Guillermo always knew just what to say and he was always within reach if Nandor ever found himself in need of a single thing. He was there every evening at sundown to greet him and there at the cusp of every sunrise to bid him goodnight. For ten years, it had been so, with the exception of the rare day off he’d granted when he was feeling particularly generous.

“Well, I say ‘day’ but it’s more like the occasional morning,” Nandor said over his shoulder, shooting the camera a tight smile.

The crew followed him into the small nook of Guillermo’s room. With his temporary absence, Nandor was free to let his moping progress to the small bed tucked in the corner, and progress it did. He felt silly and far too large sitting at the foot of the bed, but he held the glitter portrait of them both and stared down at it for a moment before he lifted it to show the camera.

“I made this for him,” he said, expression glum. “It’s terrible. I could have made the lines a little neater now I look at it, maybe been more experimental with the colours. Perhaps I’ll make a new one, that could pass some time away.” He sighed and tossed the portrait aside, then let his head hit the wall behind him with a dull thud. It was possible he’d taken his familiar for granted all along, a realisation that caused more unknown emotion to fester in him by the day. If Guillermo was there, he could ask what the feelings were, but he was alone. He sighed. “You know, it’s times like these when I miss my beloved horse, John.”

  
  


“Yeah, I decided to do the bulk of my getting better at home,” Guillermo said. “It was good to see my family, to feel like a normal person again, y’know?” He hobbled toward the large house on his crutches, talking to the cameras as he went. It was already dark outside. “I don’t even wanna think about the amount of chores I’ve got waiting for me. Good job I’ve essentially spent the past month in bed ‘cause I don’t think I’m gonna be sleeping much now I’m back.”

He was met with silence in the house. Everything looked just the same as it always had, to his relief. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d returned to the whole place burned down.

“Oh, hey. Welcome back,” Colin Robinson said, appearing as if from nowhere.

Guillermo forced a smile. “Hey, Colin.”

Colin stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “If you’re looking for Nandor, he took off as soon as it got dark out.” He said it casually, but Guillermo recognised the subtle anticipation in his face, waiting to feed off of his reaction at the absence of his Master.

He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, despite concern spiking in his chest. “Did he say where he was going?” Guillermo asked, trying his hardest to keep his voice neutral. Nandor didn’t particularly like doing things solitary, preferring the company of someone, even if that someone was Colin Robinson when nobody else was available.

Colin shook his head. “Negative on that. Nadja and Laszlo think he’s hitting up some old stomping grounds. Y’know, places they used to hunt before they had you to bring back all the virgins. They went out themselves about a half hour ago.”

Guillermo glanced at the camera in silent exasperation, but the worry increased to a gnawing sensation that made his stomach hurt. He tried not to frown.

“I can tell ya he won’t be at the seminar I’m headed to on spam and junk mail. I’m a guest speaker. Don’t wait up if you know what I mean,” Colin said, looking far too pleased.

Guillermo glanced at the camera again. “Gross,” he whispered. But as always, he was left with little useful information to glean. “Thanks,” he mumbled tightly, already turning to leave. He didn’t add a goodbye, keen to withdraw to his room where he could sink to his bed and perhaps get in some extra rest before his Master returned home.

“He’ll be super glad you’re back though, dude. He was moping around all over,” Colin laughed from behind him as he headed out the door.

Frozen to the spot, Guillermo looked anywhere but down a lens. What in God’s name did _that_ mean? Was it possible his Master had been sad while he was gone? The idea of Nandor actually missing him made his heart go ten to the dozen. He swallowed as his chest gently heaved. Only when he was sure his clammy hands wouldn’t slip on his crutches did he force himself to move again.

  
  


For once, Guillermo was glad he lived beneath the stairs like _Harry Potter_ instead of occupying a room above them. They’d have been a nightmare to navigate on crutches.

“I even have the round glasses,” Guillermo remarked, to zero laughter. His face fell; maybe Colin had drained the crew while he’d been gone. 

With a sigh, he slumped to his bed, setting his crutches aside and slowly removing his bag over his head. He frowned when something crumpled beneath him. Brows knit in confusion, he shifted his weight and pulled the glitter portrait free.

He stared at the camera. “There’s gonna be glitter in my bed for months. Great.”

That aside, his eyes narrowed. He was sure he’d left the portrait upright on his desk. His own drawings went straight on the wall above his bed, but the gift from Nandor had felt too special in the end (once he’d gotten over the initial bitterness of not being turned) and so he’d been waiting to pick up the perfect frame for it. Guillermo ran his finger over the fangs his Master had portrayed him with and wondered.

“Was he in my room?” He asked aloud, and he let the crew’s awkward silence and averted eyes answer him. Guillermo inhaled sharply and pushed his glasses up. “He was. Wow. Okay, um. That’s not a big deal though, right? I mean, I’m sure he just misses having me do everything for him. He doesn’t miss _me_. Right?” He gave a strangled laugh.

Nandor had been in his room. He’d held the portrait, presumably whilst he sat on his bed. Colin had described him specifically as “moping all over” to boot. It was very difficult to ignore what the facts were telling him once he tallied them all up: Nandor had indeed missed him. There his heart went again, beating rapidly even as he tried in vain not to be too hopeful. Whenever he hoped that Nandor felt something - _anything_ \- that went deeper, he only set himself up for disappointment.

He set the portrait back in its spot and smiled tightly at the cameras. “I think I wanna sleep, now. You can come back later.”

  
  


_“Guillermo.”_

Guillermo frowned as he was pulled quite reluctantly from his nap. He squinted into the dim light of his room and blindly reached for his glasses. When he shoved them on his face and saw Nandor silhouetted in his doorway, he was brought back to reality with a start. 

“Master, sorry! You were out when I got back.” He hoped with a swallow that Nandor wasn’t angry that he hadn’t immediately begun to catch up on housework.

Nandor simply waved him off. “You can return to work tomorrow.” 

It was a kindness Guillermo definitely didn’t expect. “Oh. Thank you, sir.”

A small silence settled. Guillermo took the moment to reach for his brown satchel and dig for his pain-killers, groaning when the simple action caused his body to ache. 

The vampire in his doorway inclined his head a little to one side and looked uncertain, a slight line on his forehead and an unsure smile stretching his mouth. “You are still in pain,” he noted, in a tone Guillermo couldn’t quite decipher. “I thought you would be all better by now.”

Guillermo swallowed two pills dry and said, “Nope. Just a human, remember? Takes us a little longer.” Nandor’s face remained deceptively blank, so he added a peppier, “I’m mostly better though, Master.”

“That’s good, then,” Nandor said, appeased. “I have a list of things that need your attention. It is very long and I expect you to do them all properly - there will be no slacking just because you had a bit of an accident.” 

He didn’t know when the camera crew had reappeared, but Guillermo rolled his eyes in their direction. He suddenly wished he was still asleep. His Master made record time in resuming his usual manner, dismissive and inconsiderate. So much for the Nandor that had supposedly missed him.

“Of course, Master,” he answered quietly, head bowed in silent frustration.

“Guillermo.”

He looked back up, gaze resigned. “Yes?”

Nandor held his eyes even as his body exuded nerves. “I’m glad you are back.”

“Funny way of showing it.” Guillermo only half-regretted the words when they tumbled out, an echo of their conversation shortly before his fall. He steeled himself for the imminent scolding and stared at the floor as a heat crept over his neck.

When his chin was tipped up by a slender, ringed finger, he could have died on the spot. For such a large man, Nandor could move silently when he needed to. He held his breath as he was forced to meet his Master’s eyes, brown and deep and so very ancient. Even with the rim of red beneath his waterline, Guillermo thought they were beautiful, especially with the thick lashes that framed them. They often caught him off-guard, but despite being made to look by Nandor’s cool touch, he couldn’t have looked anywhere else if he’d wanted to.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Nandor said slowly, as though he had to take extra care to think about what he was saying. A rarity, Guillermo thought, as Nandor was prone to saying the first thing that came to his head. “I know you are still angry with me - and I am noting your tone, by the way - but I really am glad to have you home.” His touch lingered a second or two after the last word before he finally let his arm fall away. 

_Home._ Guillermo’s eyes remained fixed as his brain wracked itself to think of another time Nandor had ever referred to the house as his home, too. He drew a blank, and silently he mourned the loss of the touch.

Nandor nudged his shoulder with the same finger. “Guillermo? Are you having a serious thought again?” He questioned.

All at once, something else entirely broke through the cloud in his mind. Perhaps it was the way Nandor hovered over him, reminiscent of his bedside, or perhaps it was the clarity that came with meeting his eyes just as he had when his neck was fresh in a brace. Either way, it brought his world to a shattering halt.

“Friend,” Guillermo said on a complete rush, eyes wide.

“What? Has your medication made your brain go funny?” Nandor threw a clueless stare at the cameras, teeth bared.

“You called me your friend. In the hospital.”

Guillermo caught a momentary flash of recognition before Nandor decided to play dumb. He could have predicted as much. “I think perhaps you need some more rest, Guillermo. I’ll leave you to—”

“You tried to make me forget,” Guillermo cut him off. His Master had never been particularly gifted when it came to hypnotism and the thought made his heart squeeze oddly with fondness. “It didn’t work, though. I remembered.”

“I have no idea what you are babbling about.”

Guillermo couldn’t help himself; he smiled broadly, the refute only making the truth more blatant. “I’m your friend,” he said triumphantly.

“Absolutely not. You are my _familiar_ —” 

“ _And_ your friend. You said so, even if you tried to take it back. You still said it.” It was strange to have the upper-hand, to watch his Master squirm as his own words caught up with him. “Colin mentioned you’d maybe missed me, and, uh, I found the portrait on my bed when I know I _definitely_ left it on my desk over there.” 

Nandor’s face clouded with a mix of irritation and flusteredness; Guillermo was sure that if he had the capacity to become red and flushed he certainly would have. “Fucking Colin Robinson,” he said through gritted teeth, then straightened his back. He did not take kindly to such a confrontation and he made no effort to disguise it. “Guillermo, you are being very out of line right now and I will _not_ tolerate such—”

“You’re my friend, too.”

His Master’s expression flickered. Just like that, his whole defensive demeanour faltered and his red-hot embarrassment fizzled out. Guillermo’s golden lamplight cast his face into soft shadows and he let out a stupefied, “What did you say?” It was the quietest Guillermo had ever known his Master’s voice to be, and it made his body ache in ways that his injuries did not.

“I said that you’re my friend, too,” he repeated.

It hung between them, the weight and meaning of the confession permeating the precarious balance of their relationship and threatening to tip it entirely. Guillermo could only guess at which way it would fall. He hoped against hope that he hadn’t set himself up for disappointment yet again. God only knew how much more of that he could take, his brief bout of confidence shrivelled in the wake of the moment’s enormity for them both.

For an agonising stretch, Nandor’s expression reminded Guillermo of a video trying to buffer. It was only when he thought he’d have to break the silence himself that Nandor found his voice again, and Guillermo sagged a little in relief.

“I have something for you,” Nandor said. It tumbled out too quickly, the mumble pushed between his fangs with a deliberate effort. He shifted uncomfortably on the spot. 

Intrigued, Guillermo sat forward on his bed with a cursory glance at the closest camera. “You do, Master?” He didn’t quite dare to believe this mysterious “something” was the cause of Nandor’s peculiar absence that evening. His pulse had other ideas, its once-steady rhythm gaining speed. He pushed up his glasses and waited with bated breath.

Nandor looked as though he wanted to flee, so Guillermo felt a little pride when the vampire stood his ground. “Yes,” he dragged out. “It is nothing much, but...I thought it might make things up to you.” He paused, stared, and then began to backtrack. “No, forget it. You probably won’t even like it. You will forget I said anything.”

He wasn’t about to employ the same trick twice, not on Guillermo’s watch. “No!” He insisted before Nandor could raise a hand. He doubted the hypnosis would be any more successful than the last, but it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. “I’d love to see it, whatever it is. I’m sure I’ll like it, Master.”

“Okay.” Nandor gave him a small nod, his doubts not quite eased but willing all the same. “Come with me, then. It is in my bedroom.”

He’d expected their destination to be the library. It was almost always the fucking library. The mention of Nandor’s bedroom made his pulse quicken further but Guillermo frowned still, his leg already giving a twinge of pain at the prospect of tackling the stairs. “Can’t you bring it here?” He asked reluctantly. “It’s still pretty hard to get around—”

“Fine, if you don’t want to see it,” Nandor said, turning to leave. 

“ _Okay_ , just gimme a second.” He hated when Nandor got petty and stubborn with him. He reached for his crutches and slid his arms through, but getting himself upright with his Master’s eyes on him made his face redden. At least it made him forget about the cameras for a moment, and the peek of a pleased smile he caught on Nandor’s face made the discomfort worth it. Mostly.

Nandor held back purposefully as Guillermo hobbled beside him. When the stairs came, his Master executed perfect patience with his arms poised ready to correct any stumbles. Guillermo quietly appreciated the sturdy presence, saying nothing despite how he longed for the steady hand on his back to remain there even once the staircase was behind them. He wouldn’t ruin the moment, just one more in a long string of them that kept him going. He would hold it close to his chest with the others, the times when Nandor thought of him, cared for him, valued and trusted him. They kept him warm at night. 

They had also kept him company during his weeks of bedrest. He had missed his Master too, after all - much more than he’d anticipated.

“It’s just under here,” Nandor said when they reached his room. He gestured to a small tarp that concealed his surprise and clasped his hands neatly in front of him. Guillermo still caught the nerves betrayed by the twitch in his fingers. “Are you ready?”

Guillermo’s stomach clenched. “I’m ready,” he said, but oh, he _very_ much wasn’t.

With a single flourish, Nandor unveiled his gift, and nothing in the world could have prepared him for what sat beneath.

A portrait - a _masterpiece_ of careful brushstrokes executed in a style that perfectly aligned with the many old paintings that lined the walls of the house. What made Guillermo’s breath lodge were the two subjects captured on the canvas: he and Nandor were displayed proudly side by side wearing matching, subtle smiles. No detail had been spared from the dimples at the corners of Guillermo’s lips to the lace that trimmed his Master’s cape, and the background was a warm halo of ochre and gold. It made his glitter portrait pale in comparison, the latter becoming almost crass in the painting’s shadow.

Guillermo struggled to speak, his throat bobbing with a swallow. “This is for me?” He asked breathily, brows lifted in disbelief. In the haze, he completely forgoed the trademark stare down the lens. The crew melted away to nothing, his only focus shifting between Nandor and the painting and the death grip he had on his crutches. 

Nandor’s hesitant smile made his sharp teeth protrude. “Do you like it?”

Guillermo beamed. “I _love_ it,” he said. He made to take an unsteady shuffle closer.

Before he could right himself, his crutch slipped. Guillermo found himself staring up at the ceiling from the floor, completely winded, and he groaned both from the pain that shot up his back and whatever wet substance he had landed in. His life always managed to hit new lows. He’d have been impressed if it didn’t make him want to scream.

“Oops,” Nandor said from somewhere above him before his face eventually came into view. His Master wore a guilty look from where he knelt, hair falling down around his face. “Probably should have told you to watch out for the paint on the floor. It got a little messy in here. There was nobody to clean it up.”

“Yeah, excuse _me_ for having several broken bones,” Guillermo said through gritted teeth, until Nandor’s words landed fully and his eyes widened in realisation for the second time that evening. “Wait, _what?_ Are you seriously telling me that _you_ painted that?” 

Nandor bristled, affronted. “Is that so hard to believe? I can do more than pillage and kill, Guillermo. Many people have sat before me for their portraits over the years,” he told him proudly, lifting his chin. He clicked his tongue in thought after a moment and looked back down at his familiar. “Although admittedly it was mostly nude portraits. Probably could have made a killing from them, if it wasn’t for all the… Well. All the killing.”

Guillermo ignored his satisfied grin. “So where did you go tonight? Colin said you disappeared as soon as it got dark.” _I was worried_ , Guillermo wanted to add, but he bit it back.

“I didn’t have a frame to go with the portrait. How would we hang it without a frame, Guillermo? Honestly. Maybe the doctors should check you again for permanent damage. There’s not a lot going on in there tonight.” He reached out a finger and tapped him on the forehead. 

Guillermo glared down camera B for all it was worth before he hoisted himself up to sitting, mindful of the injuries not yet healed. He levelled his gaze with the painting, softening again as he pored over their faces that were bathed in a resplendent glow. The consequent smile that worked its way back to his lips couldn’t be helped and Guillermo slid the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, overwhelmed all over again. Nandor had managed to make him look extraordinary, and if that was any indication as to how his Master truly saw him, then Guillermo would likely never be able to look him in the face again without blushing.

“Do you really like it?” Nandor asked. He had remained knelt beside him the whole time.

“Of course,” he replied softly. “I mean, how long did it even take? It’s incredible, Master.”

Nandor didn’t bother to disguise how he preened under the praise. “A few weeks,” he said. “I’m not as practised as I used to be. It is a little sloppy in places.”

“Oh, yeah, it shows. I mean, pfft. Total amateur.” The playful sarcasm could have been a mistake, Guillermo realised once it was already too late, but the amusement that danced in his Master’s eyes was a sight he never wanted to forget.

“I’ll be noting that, too,” Nandor told him, before his expression changed to something altogether more intimate and sobering. “Did you mean what you said back there, Guillermo?” The inclination of his head returned, doubt edged back into his voice.

“Which part?”

“That I am your friend.”

“ _Oh._ ” Guillermo’s chest squeezed. He dared to shuffle a smidgeon closer. “Of course I did.”

Nandor’s smile was small but sincere all the same, his eyes crinkled at the edges in the way Guillermo loved. “Well, thank you. I appreciate you saying that.”

He was reminded that even after a decade of service, Nandor could still surprise him and _God_ , Guillermo would hold onto this moment especially hard. He could wash the paint stains from the knees of his trousers but he’d never forget the sliver of stark intimacy or Nandor’s hand, hesitating before finally coming to rest over his own. Those things would be ingrained in him forever. His heart beat loudly in his ears and he wondered in the dazed recess of his mind if Nandor could hear it too. He wondered how it affected him if he did.

“I really did miss you,” Nandor admitted quietly.

Guillermo turned his palm over carefully, enough to let their fingers brush. He gave Nandor the deciding choice, extended his own olive branch bravely despite all the times he had been disappointed before. He hoped that if he took the risk, perhaps his odds would finally improve.

“I know. I missed you, too,” Guillermo said, and in the end that was all it took for Nandor to fit his cool fingers in the gaps of Guillermo’s warmer ones. The metal of his ring pressed to his skin and Guillermo committed the sensation to memory.

When Nandor’s lips found his, Guillermo realised that he wasn’t all that shocked. He moved in instinctively, meeting him halfway in reply like he’d been waiting for it all along - and, Guillermo supposed, he _had_. Nandor kissed him like he was afraid to press too much, the restrained pressure surprisingly saccharine, but Guillermo had made it through ten years of countless trials and tribulations - he wasn’t about to break, especially not when he had yearned for this very thing for longer than he cared to admit.

His free hand framed his Master’s jaw, thumbing along his thick beard tenderly and drawing him in. It coaxed the kiss deeper, a wordless trust passed with each rolling press of their mouths. Its taste was metallic, sharp, and Guillermo savoured the contrast of hot and cold that was unlike anything else he’d ever felt. And all the while, Nandor gripped his hand tightly, anchored himself to his familiar like he was afraid he’d disappear if he ever let go.

In truth, Guillermo couldn’t imagine himself anywhere else but at Nandor’s side.

Nandor eventually drew back, lips parting with a soft sound. Guillermo chased them, eyes fluttering open a moment later. 

He was met with Nandor’s charmed laughter. “You need to breathe, Guillermo,” he explained with a flash of his teeth.

“Oh, yeah,” Guillermo said. His chest was moving up and down rather heavily.

It was then and _only_ then that Guillermo’s eye was caught by something else entirely new to his Master’s room. An inflated balloon was seemingly stashed in the corner, round and solid black and printed with a short phrase.

“Sorry for your loss,” Guillermo read, dumbfounded. 

Nandor took a second to catch up, then threw an acknowledging glance at the balloon before meeting Guillermo with a pleased grin. “Oh, yes. That is for you also.”

Stumped for any other response, Guillermo simply stared. “Sorry for my loss?” He looked at the crew helplessly for good measure, though they were as much use as they always were.

“Yes - the loss of use of your arm and leg when I dropped you,” Nandor clarified like it was obvious. “Seriously, Guillermo, do you need me to call the parrot medics?”

Guillermo couldn’t help it; he dissolved into giggles, affection for the vampire in front of him flooding through his veins more fiercely than it ever had. It probably had something to do with the emotional high he was riding, too, happiness spilling from the inside out.

Nandor looked baffled. “You have lost me now.”

So Guillermo shook his head and guided him in for a kiss, short and sweet, and delighted when his Master leaned into it with a keen noise. These were the times when he hoped Nandor would never change.

“I love it, that’s all,” he reassured with a smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Nandor replied. Then he pursed his lips. “But Guillermo?”

“Yes, Master?” 

“This mess really does need cleaning up.”

  
  


“They’ve had this bloody portrait of them hanging in the main hallway for a month!” Nadja shouted at the cameras. “I have to look at this every night in my own home!” 

Nandor glared from his spot where he was preoccupied by Guillermo’s feet balanced precariously on his palms. His familiar reached up to dust the chandelier while Nandor hissed in her direction. “It’s our home too, Nadja,” he scathed, “and I say the painting stays.”

Across the room, Laszlo spoke to the second camera. “Yeah, Nandor is indeed a very talented portrait artist,” he said. “He did a nude of me once. I wonder if he still has it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr @ guillermothegay!


End file.
